


A Guy That I'd Kinda Be Into

by anentirerice, whenawriter



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: also it has allusions to rich's dad being abusive and generally terrible, also talks about how rich actually gets a squip please save him, god bless eighth grade rich goranski he has a crush, it's angsty and it has swear words, it....doesn't have a happy ending, vaguely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anentirerice/pseuds/anentirerice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenawriter/pseuds/whenawriter
Summary: Valentine’s Day was, without a doubt, Richard Goranski’s least favorite day of the year. The event functioned to reward the romantically involved and to shame the lonely – undoubtedly an eighth-grade outcast’s worst nightmare. Short and a little spindly, Rich was barely regarded by his peers.And, of course, much, much less by anyone he’d dare consider to have feelings for.But really, that just meant he had nothing to lose.





	A Guy That I'd Kinda Be Into

A warm hand clapped down against Rich’s shoulder. He couldn’t help the little jump he’d given – he’d been utterly transfixed by the page of homework before him.

 

“Jesus, I forgot how jumpy you are.”

 

He sat up, eyes wide, trying to crane his neck to see the figure behind him. “Robin? Holy crap!”

 

His older brother let out a warm laugh. “Did you miss me?”

 

Rich beamed, shooting to his feet and pulling Robin into a leaning half-hug. “Dude, you never come around! How’s college, uh -” his eyes skittered around, “where’s Dad, is he–”

 

“Dad’s not here, Rich, you can calm down.”

 

Rich let his shoulders slacken at that. “Uh...right.” He turned and faced the fridge, starting to rummage through its contents. “So, why are you here? If I were you, I’d never set foot within a hundred feet of this hell-house. And I _know_ you’re not stupid enough for that.” He settled on a Mountain Dew, pulling out the soda with a sneer. “I _hate_ this place. I must be hallucinating you here.”

 

Robin straightened at that, catching the implied insult. “Hey, that’s rude-”

 

“I prefer ‘lovable,’ but continue.” Rich smirked from behind his drink, very obviously trying to shake his older sibling.

 

“Fine. You should be _thanking me,_ little brother, because your two options included staying here, at home, with me, or suffering several hours on a plane next to good ol’ Dad. So you’re welcome.” He punctuated the statement by snatching Rich’s soda and taking a large gulp before returning it to the younger’s hand.

 

Looking down at the floor, Rich took his turn taking a drink from the soda. “Okay, sure, but _why did he leave_ in the first plac _e?_ Not that I’m complaining.”

 

Robin only shrugged. “Sick relative? Beats me. All I know is that he asked me to come down here because he was heading out for a few days.” Stealing the remaining soda from his brother and draining the bottle, he swallowed the contents in one big gulp.

 

“So, how’s little Richie’s life? You got a girlfriend yet, bro?”

 

Rich froze solid for a moment before shaking himself back into reality. “N-no, I don’t.” _But…_ “But I’ve had this crush on-” _-a guy._ “-someone at school.”

 

“Well isn’t, like, Valentine’s Day coming up? Don’t you have a dance or some shit like that at school?” Robin spoke dynamically, gesturing with his hands as emphasis for his tone of voice.

 

The younger flushed, light freckles standing out against pink blush. He crossed his arms and hung his head, eyes skittering around the room. “Yes, but they’d never even _consider_ _–_ _”_

 

He was cut off by the hollow click of the plastic soda bottle being spiked into the trash. “And how do you know that? Have you actually grown a pair and asked her out?”

 

Rich disregarded the pronoun and shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

 

“Well there you go!” The comment was accompanied by a waving snap, as if he had just shared some kind of mind-blowing revelation. “Valentine’s Day- you walk right up, first chance you get, and ask ‘er! Nicely, all gentleman-like and crap: _‘Hey, Maria, are you going with anyone to the dance?’_ If she says yes, great!” Robin crossed the kitchen in two long strides and placed a hand on Rich’s shoulder, prompting the boy to look up. “Look-- the worst thing that can happen is she says no, and I doubt that would even happen.” He smiled, and it just seemed to _ooze_ pride. “I believe in you, lil’ bro.”

 

Rich still seemed uncertain, but was _definitely_ encouraged. “Thanks, Robin.” He looked back down again, thinking for a beat before nodding enthusiastically. “I’ll do it.”

 

Robin laughed. “That’s my dude.” He ruffled Rich’s short hair, starting towards the living room. “Now let’s see if you’ve gotten any better at these games. Who knows, if luck is on your side, _maybe_ you’ll beat me.”

\--------

Rich couldn’t help the anticipation that lingered in his stomach.

 

_It’s okay to be nervous. You have every right to be nervous._

 

People strayed in and out of his vision, traipsing all across the cafeteria. Laughter and loud chatter were making his ears ache; he was practically white-knuckling his tray. He sank into his typical seat in the corner of the room, gaze leaping from table to table until it finally settled on the subject of his dread:

 

The brown-haired, blue-eyed god himself, Jake Dillinger. His heart leapt, and he could feel the beat crawling into his throat.

 

It was fine. It would be fine.  He had nothing to lose _–_ Robin believed in him, right?

 

Drawing in a deep breath, Rich puffed out his chest and marched into the chaos of the room before him, making a direct bee-line toward the table of jocks. No one took notice of him at first; he cleared his throat, and finally, heads turned.

 

Their laughter grew sporadic, and tapered into intent silence. Jake was the one to look at him last - his smile slid into a confused frown. Rich’s eyes frantically darted from face to face.

 

They were watching, and waiting.

 

He hadn’t realized that the rest of the cafeteria had gone quiet as well, watching him with a hungry interest. The static in his ears was deafening.

 

He clutched the hem of his shirt, his voice barely above a mumble.

 

“Um, Jake? Do you wanna - uh, are you going with anyone to the dance…?”

 

Rich was met with silence.

 

He forced himself to raise his head, brown eyes boring into Jake’s blue ones. He considered Jake’s expression - his face was suffused with a reddish color. and his eyes were twinkling. Rich smiled, and Jake began to open his mouth _–_

 

The kid aside Jake let out a peal of wicked laughter. “What the _fuck?”_

 

Rich’s head snapped toward him. The girl next to him began giggling just as hard, followed by the  rest of the table - soon enough, the _entire cafeteria_ was thrashing with raucous laughter. Jake glanced between his friends frantically, and then to Rich.

 

His shoulders sagged, and he tilted his head back, laughter slowly rolling out of him as well. Rich stepped back, his eyes widening in horror.

 

_No. Nonononono. No fucking way._

 

The laughter grew louder, harder, and Rich stumbled backward, his eyes blurring, vision swimming. He could vaguely make out Jake’s expression, dropping into some unreadable mix of pity, apology, and terror _–_

 

Rich turned and ran toward the bathroom, his breath surging.

 

Jake’s eyes remained fixed on Rich as he retreated.

\--------

The next day was, decidedly, hell. Every hallway, every classroom, every table in the cafeteria _–_ they were all abuzz with chatter about _him._ Their words haunted him at every turn.

 

_‘Did you hear Rich asked Jake to the dance?’_

_‘I heard he got so scared, he pissed his pants!’_

_‘Dude, no way. I saw him run away crying!’_

_‘I fucking knew he was gay. God, what a freak.’_

 

Rich could do nothing about it. He figured that that was the worst part, really _–_ not having a way to control what people said about him. There was no escape, and he had accepted that. At school, his ears would be flooded with the rumors. At home, his dad made _sure_ it replayed in his mind, made sure that he’d never forget what a _disappointment_ he had turned out to be.

 

The remainder of his eighth grade year, as well as most of his freshman year, was deeply unkind to him. Following some scarring and an uncountable number of bruises later, Rich shuffled through the halls of his school, head hung and eyes locked on his moving feet.

 

He was brutally pulled back into reality as two hands collided with his back, effectively shoving him to the floor; he felt his face meet the ground as bright pain blossomed against his ribs. Through tear-blurred vision, Rich could make out the face of his assailant _–_ “L-look, Thomas, I-I don’t want any trouble today _–_ ” _-I already got an earful from the old man this morning._

 

Gazing up at him from the floor, however, he saw that the boy’s dirty-green eyes were absent, replaced instead by an endless black pupil. “As much as I’d love to beat you to the ground, Goranski, I’ve got an offer for you.” An ominous smirk melted across his face, the expression unnatural.

 

He held out a hand, pulling Rich to his feet without warning and keeping him close. He glanced around, before leaning in and whispering, _“It’s called a SQUIP.”_

\--------

Rich wasn’t aware that his attention was drifting, and he most _definitely_ hadn’t heard Jake descending the school steps.

 

“Hey, Rich!”

 

He practically jumped out of his skin, giving a hard pivot; Jake was staring down at him, all bright smiles. He felt himself relax at the sight. “Oh, hey, man.”

 

“Hey!” He grinned. “So, I think Brooke and Chloe are gonna meet us at the mall, if you’re game.”

 

He paused, however, studying his friend’s face for a moment. “Yo, bro, you good? You seem a little, uh, out of it.”

 

Rich nodded, forcing his expression to brighten a degree. “Nah, man, I’m good.”

 

There was a sort of respite in lying to your friends. If you did it well enough, they’d go on without a single worry in the world. If not, well, there’d be no escaping the truth, no matter how hard you try. Each concept had its pros and cons, he supposed.

 

Thankfully, his friend seemed to have accepted the response with a small, reaffirming nod of his head. “That’s good.” A pause, and he added hastily, “I’ve always got your back, bro -- remember that.”

 

Rich couldn’t help but cringe.


End file.
